13 minute read
Nick Guinn: The Curious Leader with a Bold Heart
By June Moynihan
The Rhinory
Photos by Jessica Mewborne on location at Rhinory, the Fredericksburg winery that supports rhino conservation through education and a rhino sanctuary.
A wine aficionado and member of the Rhinory wine club, Nick Guinn enjoys time with Rhinory's resident Southern White Rhino, Blake. For more details, visit rhinoryfoundation.org.
If there’s a drumbeat in San Antonio’s legal community that sounds a little different this year, it might just be Nick Guinn’s cadence. The incoming President of the San Antonio Bar Association does not merely walk to the beat of his own drum. He writes the score, and lucky for the bar, the music is both innovative and inclusive. Nick’s phone contact list is vast, and many on that list can do a spot-on imitation of Nick calling with his signature, buoyant greeting: “What’s up, player!” It’s pure Nick, equal parts charm, wit, and unexpected delight.
An Independent Spirit, Rooted in Legacy
Nick’s story is steeped in legacy but charged with originality. A multi-generation attorney with deep Texas roots, his path to leadership is a masterful remix of inheritance and reinvention. His paternal grandmother, Mary Vance Guinn, was a trailblazer long before the term became trendy. She earned an engineering degree from the Texas College of Mines and Metallurgy (now University of Texas at El Paso) and, as a mother of six, studied for the bar exam with her husband tutoring her. She became the second woman admitted to the bar in El Paso. The couple practiced law together. A rarity then and still rare now. Her husband, Ernest Allen Guinn, was appointed to the federal bench by President Johnson in 1966, where he served until his death in 1974 and was succeeded by William Sessions. Nick’s parents, Susan Davis Guinn and Gammon Guinn, met while Gammon was in law school, and Susan started law school a few years later. Susan finished her final year and prepared for the bar exam while pregnant with Nick. “Family joke is, Nick did 3L twice,” his father says with a grin.
Despite the dynastic credentials, though, Nick never coasted. From the start, he marched to his own beat. In second grade, just before picture day, Nick demanded a mohawk. His curls rebelled against punk gravity, but the smile on his face said it all: “They’re just jealous.” That fearlessness never mutated into arrogance. Nick is both confident and deeply attuned to others. He’s the kind of person who actively seeks feedback, genuinely listens, and frets if he thinks he has hurt someone’s feelings. His empathy is as sharp as his intellect—both qualities that have earned him enduring admiration.
Susan recalls that her father passed when Nick was just two. Her mother, Peggy Davis, offered to watch Nick during the work week. The arrangement quickly became more than childcare. Peggy credited toddler Nick as her emotional lifeline during her mourning. That closeness endured. Nick and his youngest sibling, Lindsay, often spent afternoons at Granny’s, bonding over Jeopardy reruns. “The Ken Jennings run? Legendary,” Nick says. “He’s still a hero of mine.”
Nick’s oldest sister, Katie Cermin, says his sensitivity has always been baked in. “At church youth group, he made a point to talk to someone new each Sunday. He’s genuinely interested in people. It’s not a performance.” Nick’s been building community ever since. His friendships span decades and zip codes, from sports teammates to college dorm mates to bar association colleagues. He doesn’t collect contacts; he cultivates relationships.
Brains, Bread and Board Games
If you’re tempted to pin Nick as just another brilliant bar leader, don’t. He’s a joyful obsessive—the best kind. Each year, he sets a personal challenge and pursues it with unrelenting curiosity. One year, it was reading all eighty-eight Pulitzer Prizewinning novels in eleven months. The next, he became a puzzle savant, joining an online puzzlers’ guild and signing up for monthly challenges like completing a 500to 1,000-piece puzzle every day for thirty straight days. This year? Sourdough. His first attempt at cultivating a starter turned into a full-blown lab experiment—one that went sideways. “I definitely didn’t get the feeding schedule right,” he admits. “It was more science project than sourdough.” Eventually, the batch had to be declared a loss, with Nick conceding defeat only after it became clear that the microbial colony had veered into possible health hazard territory.
But Nick doesn’t give up. He decided the joy was in the treats he could bake—not in risking food poisoning from a contaminated starter—so he sourced a reputable starter culture from a professional supplier—and never looked back. These days, he’s a baking fiend, churning out golden loaves, pancakes, and muffins with both precision and pride.
Kristen, his wife, jokes that Nick’s hobby of the year becomes a household vibe. “The October puzzle challenge was Halloween-themed. We were knee-deep in orange and purple pieces. It was festive and very crowded.” And then there was the bassoon. “Nobody made him,” Lindsay says, deadpan.
“He picked it. The weirdest, most difficult woodwind. Classic Nick.” He played through high school before retiring the instrument with only slight regret. He’s also your dream Trivial Pursuit partner, a ruthless Scrabble strategist, and, thanks to Granny Peggy, a walking Neil Diamond jukebox.
Don’t think Nick doesn’t have a blind spot. That would be Leo. Leo is their Australian Labradoodle, a giant, bouncy toddler of a dog with the energy of five. Nick and Kristen both think Leo is the bee’s knees. Friends and family, however, will tell you: Leo is never going to sit down quietly, stop jumping, or ignore the Amazon delivery guy. But that’s okay, because that spoiled, apricot-colored demon dog is the joy of their lives, and Nick would not have it any other way.
A Professional Path with Purpose
Nick earned a chemical engineering degree in just three years before pivoting to law at St. Mary’s University. It was a calculated move because he knew he wanted to work in a field that fused invention with legal impact. Intellectual property was a natural fit. His work ethic and warmth caught the eye of United States District Court Judge Fred Biery, for whom he clerked before being snapped up by Ted Lee at Gunn Lee & Cave. He’s now a partner in their IP practice.
Nick does not just practice IP; he lives it. He is the author of several practical guides for IP enthusiasts and runs a YouTube channel that demystifies trademarks and copyrights for laypeople. “How can you relate to your clients if you don’t have your own copyright portfolio?” he says with a grin. His connections are never forced. One weekend, Judge Biery recommended him to a basketball buddy whose son needed IP help. As it turned out, the buddy was Nick’s middle school history teacher. “Full circle,” Nick said. The teacher remembered Nick from their school trip to D.C. Nick remembered the chaperone and the jokes. The legal matter was resolved swiftly and with grace.
Ted Lee remembers seeing Nick present a CLE alongside Judges Stryker and Price. “He’d already passed the patent bar. I joked that I stole him from Biery, but the truth is Biery spoke of him so fondly he practically delivered him with a bow.” Passing the patent bar is no small feat. The exam is notoriously difficult, so much so that eligibility alone requires a science or engineering degree. Most test-takers, including those with JDs or even advanced technical degrees, only pass about half the time. Historically, the overall pass rate hovers below 60%, but Nick cleared it on his first try—a testament to his discipline, technical fluency, and legal dexterity. “It’s as much an exercise in logic and language as it is in engineering,” he says. “It’s often said, you have to think like a scientist and write like a lawyer.” Ted adds, “He’s got this attitude of excellence. He’s hungry to be great, but he’s also kind. Clients love him. Colleagues trust him. That’s a rare combination.”
Top: Nick clerked for US District Judge Fred Biery. Bottom left to right: Nick’s famous 2nd grade mohawk; Nick’s graduation from UT-Austin; Nick and Leo
From Law to Leadership
Nick’s leadership style is hospitable and hyper-observant. Whether he is hosting friends, mentoring interns, or running a meeting, he is always scanning the room for anyone who’s left out and pulling them in. Lindsay recalls a college tour of UT-Austin when she was weighing her options. Nick, then an RA in the Jester dorms, seemed to know everyone. “We couldn’t go ten feet without someone shouting, ‘Hey Nick!’ It was overwhelming. That’s when I knew UT wasn’t for me—but it made sense why it was perfect for him.”
Nick makes connections with grace and generosity. One of his most charming traits is how he boasts about his friends behind their backs. If someone’s name comes up, good, bad, or in between, he often responds with a disarming and kind anecdote. It’s not performative, and it’s not devil’s advocacy. He genuinely wants others to see people from a fuller, more generous perspective.
Once, a friend mentioned he had twice encountered someone at late-night social events and had written him off as a bit of a goofball. Nick gently offered another angle: “You know, in my professional work with him, he’s actually deeply philosophical and thoughtful. You should get to know him.” That small nudge changed everything. The friend eventually spent time with the guy (this time without beer) and came away with an entirely different impression. Try to connect Nick with someone new, and chances are he already knows him or his cousin.
He understands leadership is not about volume; it is about resonance. As SABA President, he plans to focus on the nuts and bolts of running a law practice: buying office space, succession planning, retirement transitions. The timing is crucial. The “silver tsunami” of Boomer retirements is cresting just as Gen Z attorneys, digitally fluent and disruption-minded, are arriving. “It’s not about abandoning tradition,” Nick says. “It’s about keeping what works and discarding what doesn’t. We can build bridges across generations. That benefits everyone.”
Love, Family, and French Getaways
Nick met Kristen Carroll, a Georgia native and landscape architect, while studying for the bar. She had just moved to San Antonio the year before and did not know a soul. That changed quickly. Their shared interests quickly snowballed into shared adventures, including multiple trips to France. Before their first Paris visit, Nick took French lessons. A previous trip to Montreal had left a strong impression. He noticed that while most locals were bilingual, they always began interactions in French. “They were so gracious, switching to English when I hesitated,” he recalls. “But it hit me how rude it felt not to have tried, like I was asking them to meet me entirely on my terms in their own country.”
That moment stayed with him. In the six months leading up to their Paris trip, Nick dedicated himself to learning proper phrases, not just for transactions, but as a gesture of genuine respect. It wasn’t about fluency but about the effort, humility, and showing he cared enough to learn. He was visiting another country; the least he could do was meet the culture halfway. When the 2024 Paris Olympics were announced, the couple entered the ticket lottery and got lucky. They cheered on Team USA in swimming and got drenched at the outdoor opening ceremonies. “We were soaked, but it was unforgettable,” Nick says. Their proposal story shows Nick at his most poetic: a Valentine’s Day walk along the beach on North Padre, lit with votive candles spelling out “Will You Marry Me?” followed by a surprise celebration with Nick’s family and Kristen’s family—flown in secretly from Atlanta—upon the couple’s arrival home to San Antonio. Gammon Guinn beams, “That’s Nick. Thoughtful to the core. He planned everything so Kristen could celebrate with the people she loves.” Susan adds, “Kristen lets Nick be Nick, and he lets her be herself. It works.” Kristen recalls that her friends thought she was truly blinded by love when she described Nick’s kindness, humor, and old-fashioned good manners. “Then they met him and instantly got it.” She got the nod of approval from her friends.
Big Brain, Bigger Heart
Nick’s siblings, Trey, Lindsay, and Katie, describe him as “quirky in all the right ways.” A Learn-It-All, not a Know-It-All. An academic who can chat wine varietals, SEC football, or 18th-century political theory with equal ease. Trey shares, “When we overlapped at UT, me in grad school, him in undergrad, he couldn’t fathom why I might consider any place but San Antonio for a career. ‘San Antonio has everything,’ he told me. That’s Nick. He doesn’t just live here, he loves it.”
As SABA president, Nick wants the bar to reflect the evolving profession. “We have a beautiful legacy,” he says, “but we should be the bar of today and tomorrow, not yesterday.” He believes benefits should be modernized regularly, with outdated offerings replaced by tools that lawyers actually need. He’s optimistic about where the profession is headed. “Soon, AI will handle the boring stuff—research, logistics. That will free lawyers to focus on strategy, storytelling, and nuance. The craft of lawyering will be about your ideas, your insights, and your ability to solve problems creatively. And I think that’s thrilling.”
Nick Guinn may be a product of legacy, but he’s the embodiment of momentum. His roots in the legal community run generations deep, yet he sees that heritage not as a resting place, but a launchpad. “It’s not about being a legacy,” he says. “It’s about creating one.” He wants to build something his grandparents would admire and something his successors can take further. That means asking hard questions, embracing better tools, and designing a bar that serves not just who lawyers used to be, but who they are now and who they’re becoming. It also means remembering that leadership is service. That community is not measured by committees or CLE hours, but by how seen and supported members feel.
As Nick takes the helm, he does so with the humility of someone who knows how lucky he is and the courage of someone ready to leave things better than he found them. And— luckily for the San Antonio Bar Association, its members, and the community at large— he’s just getting started.
